


A Fitting Arrangement

by gryvon



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Arranged Marriage, BAMF Stiles, Courtship, M/M, Murder Husbands, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Werewolf Courting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:40:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21943990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryvon/pseuds/gryvon
Summary: Peter can’t look away from the pale beauty that stands in the doorway.  “Mieczyslaw Stilinski,” the young man says, pronouncing his name carefully. “But, really, I prefer Stiles.”So, this is his Omega bride. Suddenly Peter can’t think of a single reason why he objected to their arrangement.
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 52
Kudos: 870
Collections: Steter Secret Santa 2019





	A Fitting Arrangement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bunnywest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnywest/gifts).



> I'm not the original gifter but hopefully this finds you in time for the holidays. I'm planning to do more in this (with eventual upping to Explicit rating and adding the murder husbands part) but I wanted to get something up before Christmas is over where you are. I saw some A/B/O recs in your bookmarks so I'm assuming A/B/O is okay for this fic. :)

“And for the love of Fenrir, Peter, please try to get along.”

Peter rolls his eyes and lounges backward in his chair, the perfect picture of insolence. If he was anyone but the Queen’s brother and Left Hand, her advisors would be pressing to have him put in chains. The best they can muster are hushed mutters and stern glares, both of which Peter ignores with practiced ease.

“Dear Talia, why would you think I’d be anything but polite to our esteemed guests? It’s not as if you’re pawning me off as a prize negotiating piece to some _child bride_.”

“He’s not a child,” Talia says. “He’s nineteen and a fine Omega. You couldn’t hope for a better match, particularly this late in life.”

“Hmm, yes,” Peter snarks. “Nineteen and married to a man in his thirties. Just what every Omega dreams of.”

Talia sighs. It’s a drawn-out, heavy sound, worth the weeks of badgering and complaining Peter has done to try and get out of his impending arranged marriage. He’s been entirely unsuccessful which has left him with no option but to annoy Talia out of the idea before his intended mate arrives.

“He picked you, Peter,” Talia hisses. “I don’t know what you want me to say. We need this treaty. We can’t win against the Argents on our own and you know it.”

Unfortunately, he does. The kingdom of Gevaudan and the ruling Argents have become quite a thorn in his side and a growing threat to their nation. They’ve already made two attempts on Talia’s life, one of which left General Deucalion blind and the other almost cost them the Princess Heir, Laura. Both will be under the care of their Emissary Marin for weeks, leaving the Court weakened.

They need an official alliance with Alpha McCall and the kingdom of Beacon Hills if they want to avoid war. Peter’s spies have already informed him of a potential invasion. Their hope is that a public alliance with Beacon Hills will give the Argents pause. They’ve sent heralds to the Satomi Pack in the Western Mountains and the Yukimura Clan to the South, but have yet to receive a response from either.

He understands, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it. Why couldn’t the Omega have picked Derek? At least they were close in age.

Marshal Harris enters the room and bows to the Queen. “Ladies and Lords, the dignitaries from Beacon Hills will be arriving momentarily.”

Talia grabs Peter by the arm and propels him out the door. “Thank you, Adrian. Please have my children meet us in the Grand Hall.”

Peter shrugs off Talia’s hold. “I can walk to my doom on my own.”

“Really, Peter?” Talia says. “Must you be so dramatic?”

“Yes, I must.” It’s petty but Talia knows him better than any. She should expect pettiness by now.

He doesn’t bother arguing further on the way to the Grand Hall. His bride-to-be is here. There’s no escaping his fate now. He can only hope that he’s not being married off to some ugly Omega with two brain cells to rub together.

Several members of the nobility are already gathered in preparation for meeting their guests. Peter takes his seat on Talia’s left. Derek and Cora arrive not long after and take up position behind their mother’s chair. Laura’s chair sits vacant at Talia’s right. It mocks him, a visible reminder of why they need this marriage.

They don’t have to wait long before Harris arrives at the doors at the front of the hall. “Your majesty, esteemed Ladies and Lords of the royal court, allow me to introduce our guests from Beacon Hills.” Harris produces a piece of parchment from his pocket.

“Sir Jordan Parrish and Sir Braeden Tandy, Knights of Beacon Hills.” The knights march into the hall. Their armor is a practical mix of leather and chain. Both carry a small arsenal of arms on their person. They move with an air of confidence and sweep the room with their eyes, vigilant for any threat against their charge.

Peter finds himself unfortunately impressed. He leans toward Talia and mutters, “A Hellhound and a mercenary. I’ve heard of her. She used to work for the Calaveras.”

Talia nods slightly. Her eyes sharpen, taking in their guests with an assessing gaze.

“Lady Lydia Martin and Lady Erica Reyes, Ladies-in-waiting.”

The two women are elegantly dressed. Their gowns show no sign of the days of travel between their two kingdoms. Lady Reyes is obviously a werewolf but Peter can’t quite identify what form of creature Lady Martin is. She’s supernatural, he has no doubt about that. There’s a distinct smell of the grave to her but she’s not undead or a vampire. He can hear her heart beat, even and steady.

He’s distracted from his musings by Harris’s stuttering. “Lord Me- Miek-“

A long-suffering sigh echoes through the hall. “Just go with Stiles. It’s easier.”

Harris looks at the newcomer as if he’d ordered Harris to kill and eat a baby in front of the court. “But....”

Peter can’t look away from the pale beauty that stands in the doorway. His hair is tousled from travel, though someone obviously tried to reign it into some kind of order with partial luck. His clothes are of elegant cut but common fabric, more suited to travel than the court dress of the gathered nobility.

“Mieczyslaw Stilinski,” the young man says, pronouncing his name carefully. “But, really, I prefer Stiles.”

Stiles doesn’t wait for Harris to announce him, but rather strolls boldly toward the dais. He stops in front of his retinue and bows. “Your majesties.” He turns whiskey-colored doe eyes toward Peter. “Lord Hale.” The smile he sends Peter is almost mocking and incredibly pleased.

So, this is his Omega bride. Suddenly Peter can’t think of a single reason why he objected to their arrangement.

He pushes up from his chair and descends the dais to take Stiles’s hand in his. He flashes Alpha red eyes as he bows over Stiles’s hand and kisses Stiles’s knuckles. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Stiles leans in to brush his cheek against Peter’s. Someone’s been studying werewolf traditions. Given the assortment of species in his retinue, perhaps Stiles didn’t need to study at all. “The pleasure is mine,” Stiles says. His heatbeat keeps its rhythm, signaling the truth of his words.

“I have a token for you.” Peter reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box.

Stiles smiles at him. Peter wants to see that smile again and again. He would possibly kill a man for that smile, assuming it was a man Peter already intended to kill.

The smile falters as Stiles opens the box and examines the gold and ruby ring inside. He closes the box and presses it back into Peter’s palm. “No.”

Peter blinks. Silence falls around them as the audacity of Stiles’s refusal spreads through the gathered nobles. Lady Martin glares at the back of Stiles’s head, obviously as surprised as the rest of the court, while Lady Reyes tries to stifle her laughter with a fit of fake coughing.

“I beg your pardon?” Peter stares down at the box and then back at Stiles.

“You can do better,” Stiles says. The kiss he presses to Peter’s cheek takes the sting out of his words.

Stiles steps back and bows toward Talia. “Queen Hale, thank you very much for your hospitality. We’ve had a long journey. If you could have someone show us to our rooms, we would appreciate time to rest before supper.”

“Of course.” Talia waves a hand and two pages step forward to guide the Beacon Hills party out of the hall.

Peter stares at his fiancé’s retreating form. “What just happened?” he asks when Talia moves to stand next to him.

She claps a hand on his shoulder. “I believe you’ve met your perfect match.”

Talia has the kindness to wait until they’re in private before laughing at him.

**Author's Note:**

> If there are any characters/pairings you'd like to see in future chapters, let me know in the comments.


End file.
